You Can Trade Me For An Apparition
by Windup-Ragdoll
Summary: Jet-Star\OC As if they needed one more bad thing to happen, as if they couldn't handle anymore heartbreak. Maybe it was just what they needed...to survive.


**A\N: A birthday present for my killjoy extraordinaire, because she deserves it :) Enjoy the angst and violence, my dear Ray Toro loving fool. I adore you, my dear, and Ray does too :D**

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the Killjoys, Ray Toro or My Chemical Romance. However, I do own Babygirl Biohazard, so cry about it :) **

The parched air of the desert sped the drying process of Babygirl Biohazard's tears as she drug her boots through the white sand, the taste of salt still strong in her mouth. She fingered the trigger of her raygun, contemplating putting it to her temple and allowing the radiation it emitted to fry her tormented brain into muck inside her aching skull. His mask was still tied around her wrist, and his belongings still collected dust in the back room of the diner. The sun glinted off the polished face plate, causing yellow beams to dance across the land in front of her. She bit the inside of her lip and clenched her fists until blood dappled the sand. The diner appeared at the edge of her vision.

"Pull yourself together, dammit," she hissed at herself, pushing her hair back and tucking Party Poison's mask inside the backpack that was slung over one shoulder, half unzipped. Nobody had said a full sentence to each other since it had happened. They all retreated to their separate corners of reality, only interacting to eat their small meals and make sure nobody else was dead. They hadn't left the diner in four weeks.

Babygirl pushed through the busted front door and grabbed the pack of cigarettes that Fun Ghoul had carelessly left on the peeling counter. She had only taken up smoking a few days ago. Something about the way the nicotine made her heart pump faster gave her comfort. At least she was alive, if only for today. The smoke curled into her face and she inhaled deeply, allowing herself to fold into sitting position in the booth. Jet Star ambled into the room, flicking his eyes at the disoriented girl before cracking open a can of unlabeled food on the edge of the table. The cracking sound made Babygirl jump.

"Fucking Christ, Jet. A little warning," she mumbled sharply to the window. He shrugged and pulled his curly hair away from his eyes, slurping the juice from the ragged lip of the can.

"Want any?" he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. Baby shook her head, taking another long pull on her cigarette and exhaling the smoke through her nostrils. Jet Star sighed and took the seat opposite the younger killjoy, letting his eyes travel over her haunted face.

"Do you wanna talk about—''

"Shut the fuck up," Babygirl snapped, slamming her fist down on the table top and spilling the contents of the can across the dirty floor. Jet drew back, shaking his head. Baby snuffed the butt of the cigarette out in the crook of her arm, wincing.

"That's pleasant. I love the smell of searing flesh in the morning," Jet Star informed her harshly.

"Fuck you."

He reached across the table and grabbed her by lapel of her jacket, pulling their faces close in a violent manner that didn't suit him at all.

"Now listen to me," he whispered fiercely, "I can't even begin to know what's going on inside that fucking brain of yours, but punishing yourself and everyone else for what happened to him isn't going to bring him back." He closed the space between them by wrapping the girl in a strong hug. He almost never fought with the group, and seeing him snap made Babygirl's heart quiver unpleasantly.

"I can't believe he's dead, Jet," she choked into the leather smell of his shoulder. "What the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know. Survive."

She pulled away from him, letting her arms fall limply to her sides. Her curtain of dark hair swung forward to hide her tear clouded eyes as she explained, "I loved him, I think..."

"He knew that. We all did. You guys didn't exactly make it discreet."

She appreciated the smile in his voice, and she took his hand under the table. He flinched, a little startled by the sudden touch of her skin. A blush crept in around his neck. Meeting his eyes, she mouthed "thank you" before standing up and exiting the diner. Jet Star watched her go, a strange feeling gripping his brain. It was fuzzy, and almost pleasant.

"Well, what was _that_ all about?" Fun Ghoul asked, occupying the seat Babygirl had recently vacated.

"What?"

"Oh, good Christ."

"What?" Jet Star repeated indignantly.

"Please don't tell me you guys had sex on the table. I eat on here, if you weren't aware."

"Of course, Fun, that's exactly why we were both clothed the entire time."

A silence hung in the air as the both smiled at each other.

"Do you realize this is the longest conversation we've had in a good four weeks?" Fun pointed out to the dark skinned killjoy. Jet nodded, saying, "She has a way of doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Fixing everything."

Fun Ghoul snorted, picking up his pack of cigarettes and sticking one into his dry mouth. Party Poison was gone, and their hearts broke in unison, but they had no right to grieve. He wouldn't have wanted that. They had to keep fighting until they met their end. It was the only way it could be.

**A\N: Eek, sorry the ending was terrible, but I tried. I love you, Kit Kat, and everyone else who read this story for whatever reason. :)**


End file.
